


That April (you were knowable)

by llythl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Hanami, Inspired by official art, M/M, Night festival, Romance, Romantic build-up, Shopping, Test of Courage, Victor the charming foreigner, Yuuri the reluctant local, shenanigans in Hasetsu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10048808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llythl/pseuds/llythl
Summary: "He said there were dead bodies buried beneath the tree," Victor explains, eyes wide.Yuuri remembers his sister telling him in passing that Victor could not be more typical as a tourist - possessing a charming naivete that was really only charming when it was not doing any harm.Hasetsu shenanigans: Set just after Victor and Yuri (Plisetsky) arrive in Hasetsu. On Yuuri learning - and re-learning.





	1. When the Sakura Fall

 

The fisherman's name is Yamaji, apparently.

It is Victor who tells him this, one evening on the walk back from Ice Castle. Yuri lags somewhere behind them, and when Yuuri glances back he sees the boy has pulled his hood back to admire the sky. Sunset oranges and pinks are streaking across the sky like bold tiger stripes so maybe that is why. They passed the fisherman - Yamaji a few steps back where he was packing up for the day.

He had appeared some months before Yuuri moved to Detroit. They never exchanged a word, just smiles and nods. Quiet, teenage Yuuri had considered the arrangement a step up in the socializing department (which he struggles with still and struggled even worse with then). So he was delighted to find - five years later that here was something familiar, unchanged.

A tiny fear niggled at Yuuri upon his return - on top of various others. That Hasetsu would not remember him, and that he would not remember it. He loved his seaside hometown, but when he stopped to think about it, he could not remember why. A tiny flicker of regret blossomed then and he spared a moment to think of what skating had taken from him.

That was weeks ago. Yuuri had not felt the same fear since.

Till today. Till Victor began regaling to him stories about someone that he has known for two weeks when Yuuri has known him far, far longer. But that is the thing isn't it? He does _not_ know. He wonders if Yamaji likes Victor better for it, but that is silly - _of course he does_.

Victor is still nattering away beside him. Yuuri has perfected the art of watching Victor in his periphery and he looks now without really looking. Victor is wearing an easy, picture-perfect smile that Yuuri is tempted to smudge away with his sleeve. Two weeks with Victor and he is still as unfamiliar, as untouchable as the day he stormed into Yuuri's life. He is another thing Yuuri does not know, even if they have just spent the last eight hours together.  
 

Yuuri is tempted to wipe away that smile now because he is at least sure that that one belongs to the Living Legend Victor Nikiforov brand. There is another kind. The _just_ Victor kind and that is the one not captured in his poster collection. It is not that Yuuri does not know how to uncover it. If these two weeks have taught him anything, it's that is that Victor is a fair man. He will give when he takes. And what he wants from Yuuri - Yuuri is not sure he can give.

Victor's arm brushes his, the subtlest of touches. Yuuri jumps and tries to disguise it as a stretch.

"You guys are too slow," Yuri snarls suddenly behind them. "I'm hungry."

"Manners, Yurio," Victor says lightly as he shifts the tiniest of inches away from Yuuri's side.

Yuuri pretends not to notice.

  
...

The inn is crowded with guests when they get back, a number that startles Yuuri.

"It's hanami tomorrow," His mother explains cheerfully when she catches his deer-in-the-headlights look. "A whole group came this morning just for it."

Yuuri blinks. _Hanami?_

"We reserved a table for you. Go in, Yuuko's family is here too," she says, pressing hot towels into their hands before whisking away.

"What's a hanami?" Victor asks as they wipe their hands. Yuuri searches for an explanation. The word is at once nostalgic yet foreign. His last hanami must have been nearly ten years ago.

"Flower viewing parties. For the sakura season," He settles on finally. It is not an adequate explanation, he knows, but all knowledge of hanami past their English translation seems to have deserted him. Victor hums contemplatively but he has a curious gleam in his eye that says he is not satisfied. Yuuri looks away.

Dinner is a boisterous affair. With the Nishigori family at their table, voices are raised louder, plates get swapped out faster, and the sake makes their rounds earlier.

"Nope," Yuuko says, swiping her cup from one of the triplet's reaching hands. Yuuri, ever the role model, rejects cups offered to him while Yurio (because Russians care little for age restrictions apparently) shakes his head after knocking back the first. "I don't like the taste," he says by way of explanation but Yuuri knows he and Victor had shared a bottle between them the previous night. If he has an intolerance for sake, it is a recent development.

Yuuri hides his smile behind a hand. It is Yuri's second night with them and already he feels like he has a better fix on the teenager than on Victor.

Speaking of which. _Where is Victor?_ Last he checked, Victor had been coerced into a round of drinks at the regulars' table. Yuuri spots him, flushed and laughing as he plays the charming foreigner. Yuri Plisetsky stayed by him at their usual table, if only because charm is not in his genetic makeup.

"Well, that's it for us," Nishigori announces. He rises and says to Yuuko, "Bring them to the car first. I'm going to check if Hiroko-san has finished preparations."

As Yuuko gathers her sleepy brood into her arms Yuuri asks, "Preparations for what?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. We're running an errand for your mom tomorrow. It's the hanami."

When her words are met with a blank stare she explains, "It's a thing we've been doing, sometime after you left. You know the inn hosts a hanami trip for the guests every year? We're going ahead to reserve spots for all the guests."

"Oh... _oh_ ," His hazy knowledge of sakura season traditions begins to finally stir. "But...isn't that - you'd have to go _really_ early."

Yuuko shrugs. "Small sacrifice. Oh Yuuri, do you remember? We used to attend every year when we were children. We loved it - dancing beneath the petals."

"Y...yes," Yuuri says haltingly. He had not thought of sakura trees or dancing for years. The memory stirs from dormancy and bursts behind his eyelids in full colour. A kaleidescope of laughter and pink.

"Yuuri!" An abrupt weight lands clumsily on his shoulders and he glances at the clock. It is not even ten. Stiffly, he shifts so that there is at least an inch between him and Victor.

"Let's go to the hanami!" Victor sings in his ear, closing the gap in an instant. Yuuri gives up and focuses his mental resources towards preventing the inevitable blush from rising past his ears.

" _No_ , no hanami." For many reasons. Victor probably is not serious anyway.

"Yes," Victor insists and his eyes narrow in a conscious effort at sobriety. "Momo and the others were talking-" He gestures vaguely at what Yuuri assumes is the regulars' table. Yuuri has no idea who Momo is.

"-and it sounds so magical," Victor blinks, starry-eyed. "Let's go."

"We have training-"

"Training schmaining," Victor scoffs. "A break is fine. Besides I'm only going to teach you both the programs next week so what are you going to do till then?"

"Quads? Muscle training?"

"Boring," Victor nearly shouts. He turns to Yuuko suddenly. "Word is you have an errand to run early tomorrow. How about some help?"

Yuuko looks absolutely bewildered. "Er...I guess?"

"Then we go!" Victor cheers, his accent thickening around the exclamation. Evidently satisfied, he slumps over the table in one sudden, dead-weight movement. Everyone stares.

"Well," Yuri says, clearly contemptuous. "I guess that's that."

  
...

Yuuri's expects Victor will have forgotten the whole thing by morning. But he should know better - Victor Nikiforov never fails to surprise.

"Why," Yuuri tries and fails to keep from snapping. His mental faculties are useless at any hour before 7 a.m. and absolutely dried up when Victor Nikiforov knocks on his door with a brilliant smile at 6.30 a.m. 

"We leave in two hours," Victor says, immune to or ignoring Yuuri's morning belligerence. "Jog, forty-five minutes. Calisthenics, thirty minutes. Breakfast is at eight."

Yuuri curses. Whether it is the universe, exercise or Victor he has no idea. But it freezes Victor's perfect little smile in place and that makes the morning a little more bearable all of a sudden.

He slams the door for good measure. 

One and a half sweaty hours later Yuuri's empathy processors reboot and he slides into the dining room in a grovel at Victor's feet.

"I...didn't mean that," His ears burn and somewhere behind him he hears Yuri make a sound of derision.

"Forgiven," Victor says easily. "Now we've each learned something."

"What?"

Victor smiles as he pours Yuuri a cup of tea. "I know now that you're an absolute sweetheart in the mornings and you know that I forgive."

Yuuri stares. 

"But I don't forget," Victor finishes with a wink.

The Nishigoris arrive later in a tiny Honda overflowing in abundance with boxes and enthusiasm. They set about the Herculean task of packing eight people and one dog into a five-seater, and more boxes into the boot.

"What _is_ all this?" Victor says wonderingly, flitting between boxes and trying to peek at their contents. 

"Mats, disposable cutlery, snacks and badminton sets," Takeshi supplies. Yuuri's mother reappears with her arms full. He sighs. "And more mats."

"There were last minute sign-ups," she says apologetically. "It's up to sixty-three now, not including us."

Takeshi whistles, low and troubled. "Seventy-ish then. No problem."

"Really?" Victor says.

"Not really," Takeshi admits. He slaps Victor on the back. "Good thing we have you guys eh? Now chop, chop. In the car, everybody."

By way of careful, Tetris-like manipulation, they get themselves and every last box into the car. The skaters end up in the back with Makkachin over their feet and a triplet on their lap each whom take it upon themselves to educate the foreigners in their midst about the trials of hanami participation.

And it's a refresher course for Yuuri, they add in a little unnecessarily. There is nothing he can say to that though so he listens obediently.

"What is the hanami? And why the fuss?" Intones Axel in a low, dramatic voice.

Lutz chimes in from Yuri's lap. "It begins in the Nara period, when emperors and empresses-"

And so they continue in this fashion, in a detailed if slightly over-dramatic rendering of the sakura tree's significance. It is all a little dry to Yuuri, but it seems to enchant Victor and Yuri - in varying degrees.

"If it starts at five why are we here?" Yuuri grumbles, if only to remind everyone of his supposed disinterest.

"War," Loop says, shaking a menacing fist. "To watch the flowers you gotta fight."

"Against the couples,"

"The tourists!"

"The salary men!"

"Hanami is a very popular event," Yuuri says quickly when he catches Victor's shock and Yuri's delight. "Good spots are snapped up quickly so you need to reserve them as early as ten."

"And it'll be difficult this time," Yuuko adds. "Reserving for over fifty."

"Fun," Victor proclaims, eyes glittering earnestly.

"It's really not that exciting," Yuuri says. "Just a matter of laying mats down and sitting on them."

"Well," Yuuko says slowly. "Theoretically."

 

...

It is as if the whole town of Hasetsu has descended upon the tiny park. Blue mats have been thrown haphazardly over the grass while over them people haggle for space with typical Japanese politeness. Children and even adults weave in and around the tight network of mats and and trees, playing frisbee, badminton, or just running for the heck of it. Yuuri observes, to his shock, that the sake has already made its rounds in some groups.

Takeshi is frowning. "It was not always like this. It only got this popular last year when the park got high ratings in a feature on best hanami spots. Now we're competing with tourists and salary men as well as locals," he says.

Yuuri glances over at Victor and Yuri. Are they disappointed? Will they want to head back?

Victor is looking about him with the excited wonder of a child. He is bouncing on his heels like one too. Without thinking he clamps a restraining hand around his elbow. Just in case. Beside him, Yuri stumbles as a frisbee cuffs the back of his head. He grabs his elbow too.

"Yuuri, this is amazing!"

"Which shitbag was that? Fight me!"

"Yuuko," Yuuri nearly whimpers as he struggles to keep the Russians from bounding off.

"Right," she loops an arm around Yuri's who continues snarling but ceases shouting at least. "Divide and conquer. We'll try the opposite side of the river. You and Victor look around here. Take some mats."

Orders received, they are left standing amidst something like a barely restrained war zone. Yuuri sighs. He _is_ the local here. Keeping a careful hand on Victor's elbow he leads them into the foray. There is barely an inch of ground left uncovered by mats. He bites his lip. This will he harder than he thought.

He glances back at Victor, who is keeping his own careful hand in Makkachin's fur even as he looks around captivated. Yuuri makes his decision quickly.

"Right. Over there," He herds Victor beneath one tree, full and lush with pink petals. It is clearly a popular one. With some strategic placement he parks Victor and Makkachin nearby, and gives Victor some mats to hold.

"Wait there a moment," he says, and steps back to wait.

It works faster than he expected. A group of girls who have already laid claim to a nice spot under the tree beckon Victor over. They chat for some minutes, then the girls pull back a section of their mat - leaving a generous amount of space. Victor spreads his mat.

"Good job," Yuuri says as he helps to unfurl it. Victor spares the giggling girls a last wink before turning to him, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"You used me," He tells Yuuri, in the voice of someone who has spotted a rare creature and is not sure whether to admire or shoot first. "Yuuri Katsuki, you used _me_."

Yuuri fights a blush. "Stop, it sounds horrible when you put it that way."

Victor only responds with a mysterious smile that does wild things to Yuuri's heart. He decides not to analyse why.

 

...

They manage to lose the spot in thirty minutes. It's Yuuri's fault, he decides on his own. He really should have known better than to abandon Victor while he searched for the toilets. By the time he returned fifteen minutes later, Victor was standing, mat rolled back under his arm, their spot usurped by a lone salary man.

"He said there were dead bodies buried beneath the tree," Victor explains, eyes wide.

Yuuri remembers his sister telling him in passing that Victor could not be more typical as a tourist - possessing a charming naivete that was really only charming when it was not doing any harm.

He mutters something in Japanese and it must come out sounding like a curse because Victor's freezing up again. He says quickly, "That was a Japanese saying about sakura. From a famous short story."

"So...not real?"

"Not real."

Yuuri does not bother to fight the salary man but he pins him with a frosty glare as he ushers Victor away. They reach the little river that cuts between the park. Moss-covered stones pave a slippery path across it.

"Are you mad at me, Yuuri?" Victor says while Yuuri examines the stones. He sounds more curious than chastised.

"Of course not, it was not your fault," He steps onto the first stone. "Careful, it's slippery."

Cold fingers wrap around his wrist gently enough that a tiny movement would easily dislodge them. Yuuri holds still.

"I can't read you at all, Yuuri." Victor says suddenly. Yuuri shifts uneasily.

"Well, it has only been...two weeks?" He steps onto the next rock, Victor's hand still around his as he follows behind.

"But we've spent nearly every day of those two weeks together. And yet."

"I did spent that first week doing weight loss training alone. While you fended off the press," Yuuri says. "Besides-"

"Yuuri."

Yuuri pauses, a single foot hanging in mid-step. He finally turns to face Victor. Victor the skater. Victor his idol. Victor his coach. All those Victors blur into each other, but he cannot see _just_ Victor.

He stares at their connected hands. "I..."

"I'm here, Yuuri. You only need to be here too." Victor says, quiet and slow.

  
_He will give when he takes. What Victor wants from Yuuri - Yuuri is not sure he can give._

Yuuri inhales deeply. The blood in his cheeks prickle with warmth as he wraps his own fingers around Victor's. They form a tight curl around each other.

"Careful," he nods at the rocks and takes another step. "Small steps."

  
_Small steps._

_  
_  
...

Luck is scarce on this side too.

"So I run. I get to it first," Takeshi pumps a triumphant fist as he recalls the moment. "We spread our mat, I have one kid standing at a corner each -"

"Hey!"

Takeshi ignores Yuri's shout. "I give them a frisbee to throw around while they wait. Yuuko and I go searching elsewhere. When we get back, _bam_. Frisbee. Spot. Both gone."

" _Yurio_ ," Victor clucks disapprovingly.

"What?" Yuri says sulkily. "It flew. We ran. That's how the game is played."

He shoots them all a glare, daring anyone to argue with him. Yuuri holds up his hands placatingly. "That's fine. But we really need to do something..." He casts his eyes around them and says nothing for several minutes. Then he mutters a silent "Alright," and picks up a mat. He picks a spot that just barely allows him to unfurl half the mat and lies down. There is just enough space to do so.

"Seriously pig? You want to nap _now_?"

"I was awaken rudely this morning without prior notice," Yuuri says, his eyes darting quickly to Victor. Victor only chuckles and he relaxes. "Yu-chan, the shrine is selling pastries and stuff. Why don't you all get breakfast? I'll wait."

If Yuuko finds his behaviour questionable she says nothing. Instead she herds her family and the Russians to the promised shrine, except for Makkachin who comes to lay down beside Yuuri. They cuddle together on the ground beneath the frothy pink-white clouds of flowers. It's a pretty picture. Victor saves it to his phone quietly.

By the time they return it is just past noon and their spot has more than doubled in size. Yuuri has managed to spread two huge mats on the ground. He lies spreadeagled on one while Makkachin takes the other.

"Oh, you're back," His voice is soft and sleepy and he seems reluctant to move. "I think that covers half our quota."

"How did you?" Takeshi wonders.

Yuuri sits up and blinks blearily at them. "Tourists. They always leave early. And this side of the park is full of them." Sure enough, the massive tree above them is surrounded by foreigners of varying origin. Victor thinks he sees a Russian couple nearby.

"We just have to be patient," Yuuri says as they settle in a loose ring around him. Victor sits beside him, and gives him a strange look.

"You're always full of surprises, Yuuri Katsuki."

 

...

Yuuri's strategy is a sound one. By four o'clock, they have enough space to fit the inn's guests and themselves. To celebrate the achievement, Nishigori brings out a small bottle of sake once he checks that the triplets are asleep.

"It's still early," Yuuri says, but he takes his cup anyway.

"A pre-party drink," Takeshii says indulgently. "Drink up, champ."

It is completely lovely, lazing beneath the great boughs of dainty pink flowers, and even lovelier with sake. They sip meditatively, making mellow little sighs as they pass the bottle around. Even Yuri looks subdued, retreating beneath a low branch that nearly obscures his face with flowers, a full cup in his hand.

Beside him, with a conscious gap between them sits Victor. He looks like an otherworldly being, sprawled elegantly on the mat, eyes cast upwards in unceasing admiration for the sight before him, even as he sips his sake.

"Tell me, Yuuri," he says suddenly, breaking the leisurely silence. "About the sakura."

A stray petal lands in Yuuri's cup. He stares at it in wonder.

"They say each petal is a reincarnated warrior's soul," he begins softly. To speak louder would be to break something precious, he senses. "Warriors fallen in battle. And the ideals that they live passionately and die young."

Now he watches Victor from his periphery. The man takes a sip and urges, "Go on."

"The sakura only last a week. That's why people say it represents the impermanence of life." Yuuri picks the petal from his cup. It sways on the tip of his finger. "They blossom so brilliantly, then fall with the wind."

He hears Yuri snort a little. Victor says nothing. The unspoken stays unspoken. But he knows that their thoughts are the same. There is not a more accurate way to describe a skater's life.

It must weigh heavier on Victor, Yuuri thinks. The parallel is so similar its laughable. Yuuri has never looked at the sakura and felt such sadness, but now he does, and they are so beautiful yet so fleeting.

A wind rushes through the trees and petals drift silently down in a floating shower. They land in Victor's hair, his cheeks, his lips. A sympathetic kiss, from one fallen warrior to another. Yuuri feels his hand lift, fully intent on brushing the petals from Victor's skin.

He stamps down the intent, and his hand lowers back to his side.

 

...

The night moves along merrily, as they do at parties. Yuuri loses track of Victor some time after sunset. He catches glimpses of him throughout the night - drinking with old men, singing with the performers, chasing and being chased by children around the trees. Victor does not forget he and Yuri entirely however, making a point to reappear beside them from time to time to share a drink, play a brief match of badminton, or snap a shaky selfie.

When Victor does not make an appearance for nearly forty-five minutes, Yuri  pulls Yuuri into endless matches with the triplets playing referee. They play frisbee till they manage to lose the disc for good, strike out again when the shuttlecock too disappears, before collapsing at the base of a tree, flushed and tired.

Yuuri cannot remember the last time he had so much fun.

For the rest of the night the pair talks, talks longer than they ever have or ever imagined talking for. Makkachin sits between them, and they trade off petting him. They talk food, cats, and Victor. Yuuri keeps waiting for Yuri to snap at him and storm off but the teen keeps up his side of the conversation albeit in a somewhat passive-aggressive manner. He stopped drinking alcohol hours ago, but does not refuse the cup of juice Yuuri's mother keeps topped up. When Yuri finally dozes off, his head bobbing dangerously close to Yuuri's shoulder, Yuuri realises they have been talking for two hours. That is almost two hours longer than any conversation he has had with Victor. He wonders what to think about that.

It is midnight by the time he manages to half-drag half-carry Yuri into Yuuko's car. His sister ropes him into cleanup and several more minutes pass before he thinks to look for Victor. He finds him later under one of the trees - just standing there.

"Yuuri," Victor says happily when he notices him, drawing out the name in a way that makes it clear to Yuuri how drunk he is. He sways unsteadily and Yuuri puts out an arm to hold him.

"Had fun?" He says it almost dryly, but he genuinely means the question. Victor makes a sound that is almost a giggle and a sigh combined.

"Very," He says. "Can we come back and see them again?"

Yuuri assumes he is talking about the sakura. "The flowers will be gone in a week. Remember?"

"Oh," Victor says, wrinkling his nose in confusion."Oh."

Yuuri lets him stand there for awhile longer, and they both stare at the tree, and the vast sky over it. A strong breeze passes through, scattering pink flowers across the dark expanse. In the low, fire glow of the lanterns, they look like stars. Like little warrior souls. Yuuri feels his like his heart might burst.

"Shall we go? Everyone is leaving," He says when the air stills again.

"Mm," Victor hums, uncommitted. Suddenly he takes a step closer, and pushes his face into the side of Yuuri's neck. Yuuri holds his breath and tenses.

"V-victor? Is - is everything alright?"

Victor breathes out against his neck, deep and melancholic. "I'm sad, Yuuri. I don't know why."

For the first time, Yuuri sees a little crack, right along the seam that holds together the perfectness of Victor Nikiforov.

  
_Give and take._

"Yeah," Yuuri shuts his eyes tight. "Me too. Just a little."

They walk back to the car together, side by side. This time - the gap is almost imperceptible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because:  
> 1) Maybe they did not fall into each other immediately. Maybe it was not always as easy as it looked. Perhaps - in the beginning, they were like any of us - awkward, insecure, and unsure of one another.  
> 2) No one talks nearly enough about Hasetsu. What is it really like - this town that birthed and raised one Katsuki Yuuri?  
> 3) I needed somewhere to put my official art-inspired fantasies. I think you can all guess which art this was inspired by.
> 
> Next chapter: Yurio rebels. A spot of shopping gets thrown in. And maybe, they break that 2 hour conversation record Yurio set.


	2. The Town Mascot is a Squid, After All

* * *

Yuuri begins the morning with a new accomplishment.

He talks to Yamaji - _yes, the fisherman_ \- whom up till eight that morning, he had only been on a nod-and-smile basis with.

It is entirely awkward. He had planned to ask about his fishing activities (Excited? It's the tuna season right?), but the plan derailed once he tried explaining why he knew the old man's name.

Yamaji seems to take pity on him. After Yuuri tries to salvage the conversation by means of arm flapping and stuttered words, he shows Yuuri his container of fish bait.

...Yes, awkward. But Yuuri still feels quite accomplished when he finally parts from Yamaji and continues on his way.

When he gets to Ice Castle Yuri and Victor are already on the ice, well into their warmups. Everything is normal - Yuri grunts at him by way of greeting, and Victor voices his as is proper.

He does not comment when he notices Victor pulling his smile a little too tight at the corners.

  
...

By afternoon, Yuuri still does not comment. But he wants to. By the looks of it, Yuri wants to too - probably rudely. Still - they are all professionals on the ice, and so they remain silent under Victor's unusually strict instruction. Victor's coaching has always been strict - as both of them have come to realise. But today he is on edge, moving as if he is impatient in his own skin.

"Again," Victor says for the nth time. This time's again is edged with something restless and impatient. They take turns entering the spin again, and just when it looks like they have got it right Victor claps his hands sharply. They skate over to where he stands at the rink's edge to receive their lecture.

Later when they have both been run ragged to the bone, Victor finally calls for a break. He takes to the ice and launches into a choreographic sequence. It looks vaguely like the programs Yuri had said Victor had prepared for his next season at first. It soon begins to spiral into a complex, muddled series of jumps, spins and steps. Every move is executed flawlessly but there is an underlying feeling of chaos. It makes Yuuri nervous. Nothing about Victor Nikiforov has ever been chaotic.

Yuuri tries to exchange a meaningful glance with Yuri but the teen only continues watching Victor, a growing displeasure showing in his expression.

Later when Victor finally releases them from the practice session he asks what he had been trying to do.

"Oh, just trying out some things," Victor says carelessly. "I had to answer the call of inspiration. I am thinking of creating a program based on the Sakura. A story about a warrior perhaps, to capture that lovely metaphor you told me about. What do you think?"

Yuuri would think it was genius and amazing if only Victor did not look so agitated as he said this. Victor is an artist, but he is an artist that takes pride in himself as a work of art, not one that struggles with the weight of frustrated genius. So he says a hesitant, "Good. Sounds...good."

"It sounds stupid, that's what," Yuri says, adding his two cents. "You're supposed to be focusing on us, not you."

Victor stops abruptly. He looks surprised. "I am."

Yuri snorts, shoving past him to walk ahead. "No you're not."

The conversation only serves to bewilder Yuuri even more. But he keeps a tight rein on his questions.

The next day is not any more enlightening. Victor calls for an early break and takes their spot on the ice. This time, he spins out an entirely different choreography from the previous day. The only similarity is that same chaotic feel.

"I was talking to Yamaji this morning," he says, flushed and panting. "And it hit me. We're surrounded by the sea. What greater inspiration than that vast blue that stretches and stretches and never ends -"

"Oi," Yuri snarls. If you're gonna be a poet get off the ice. There's no room for aimless retirees here."

Yuuri flinches. Victor stares. But he lets them back onto the ice and they push through a few more gruelling hours.

Later, Yuri corners him over cold sandwiches. They stay rink side while Victor wanders off to speak to Yuuko.

"He did this beginning last season. Churned out programs like a damn factory. None were any good though. Full of restless angsty crap, Yakov said. He was so pissed."

Yuuri doubts those were Yakov Feltsman's exact words but he gets the picture. He bites into his sandwich half-heartedly. "Why?"

"Hell if I know. He's _Victor_."

Yuuri supposes that's a fair answer.

After lunch Victor's strictness increases twofold and he pushes them harder than ever. Half an hour after they were supposed to call it a day he still has Yuuri on the ice, drilling him in quads.

"Don't overthink it," Victor says for what must be the fiftieth time. He has been running through the jumps alongside Yuuri and looks worse for it. On his pale cheeks, the flush of exhaustion is a stark contrast.

"Right," Yuuri says. He is really tired but he is desperate to get this right, desperate to do something to chase away that tiny frustrated crease between Victor's brows. Yuri groans loudly from the side of the rink.

They prepare for the next jump. Yuuri can sense where Victor is now without looking. He follows his lead for the timing - three, two, one-

He pushes off and he _knows_ that it's clean. As he comes down from the spin he anticipates the slick, sharp sound of a perfect landing.

It doesn't come. Or rather, it does, but a heavier sound is layered over it.

_Thump_.

Victor had fallen. The sound is louder than it should be, punctuated by a pained grunt. He skates over quickly, where the man is struggling to drag himself upright.

He is clutching his knee. Blood pounds in Yuuri's ears as he brushes Victor's hands away and presses searching fingers to the spot. He hisses, more surprised than pained and Yuuri breathes again. It's only a bruise.

"Oi." Yuuri's voice cuts sharp and dangerously low across the ice. He begins to skate - no, _slice_ across the surface towards them.

"You knew you were too tired," he snarls accusingly at Victor. "You should have known you wouldn't make the jump."

Victor's mouth is a taut line. "I thought -"

" _You thought_!" Yuri barks out a harsh laugh. "Thought what? That your stamina isn't as shit as it really is, that your age isn't either? What the hell were you doing jumping over and over again like a damn jackal? Trying to reach the moon? Huh?!"

There is nothing Victor has to say to that, so he does not. Yuri turns on him instead.

"And you! Couldn't you have complained half an hour ago like a normal student?"

They stagger in a ragged line back to the inn later, Yuri several paces ahead to express his immense disgust with both of them. No one says a word.

Victor only says two words to him later, before they part for bed, "I'm sorry."

...

Yuri puts his foot down the next morning. No, really. As Victor and Yuuri move to walk around the dining table to leave, he plants a deliberate limb in their path.

"I'm taking the day off. Gonna help Mari run some errands for the inn."

This statement is even more surprising because it includes the word _help_. Victor and Yuuri can only stare.

Yuri points a toe at Victor's knee. "No point anyway. And I'm not gonna be coached by someone who's just going to jump themselves into an early grave."

"Fine, I'll just take Yuuri then," Victor says tersely. Yuri aims the toe at Yuuri next. "No you won't. He's with me."

"You are?"

" _I am_?"

Yuri aims a condescending look at Yuuri. "Man of the household, are you not gonna help your sis?"

"I -" Yuuri begins but stops abruptly when Yuri turns his iciest glare on him. It's not like he knew what he was going to say anyway. He glances down at Victor's knee.

"Alright."

Victor fumes but he agrees to go along. At least, that's what Yuuri takes his silence for. They sit in the back while Yuri takes shotgun beside Mari. This arrangement would normally send his heart flip-flopping, but today it is putting him on edge. He is hyper aware of Victor's every movement - an exhale that might have been a sigh, a leg crossing over the other, the corner of his lip pulled down into a sulky pout -

Yuuri forces himself to focus on what his sister is saying.

"- first stop is the morning market. You remember that one Yuuri? Around Yobuko...no, the daily one. Yeah, got to have a word with old man Taki."

"Taki...Taki jii-san? The one who sold shellfish?"

" _Sells_ ," Mari corrects. Then she adds in a lower voice, "Unfortunately."

"Mari-nee!"

She shrugs. "He's growing old. Keeps messing up the orders. We asked for crab, he gave us crayfish and charged double. Mom and dad are too nice so it's on me to rail into him."

The Yobuko morning market is the only one of its kind in Hasetsu - a collection of stalls down the street selling everything the town is famed for: seafood. The market is Yutopia's main supply source and Yuuri remembers accompanying his parents on weekend trips to top up their stocks. Now that he is reminded of its existence, he thinks he can nearly recall the smells, the sounds, the faces of regular sellers.

He secures a face mask over his face before alighting the car.

"Cold," he says when Yuri raises an eyebrow.

The market is as he remembered, if more crowded. Amidst local shoppers he sees the occasional red or blonde head of a foreign visitor. He glances at his own companions, silver and blonde, then back to his feet. He is starting to feel like a tourist himself.

Mari leads the charge, taking quick steps with a single-minded purpose. The three of them try to keep up, but there is so much to see. From all sides old, young, men and women beckon them with bird-like cries, calling out discounts and season specials. Seafood so fresh you could smell the salt of the sea off them lie neatly over ice in styrofoam boxes, while hot grills hiss and spit oil as they turn fresh catches into golden brown delicacies. Yuuri finds himself looking around him with as much wonder as the Russians. Like them, he feels like he is learning - but this is a lesson he has taken before.

Taki's stall lies somewhere in the middle. Behind the table Yuuri spots a tiny man with browned, leathery skin. His breath catches. The man is so familiar, with his toothy, lopsided scowl and the constant bobbing motion he makes with his head - but so unfamiliar at once too.

He feels nervous, all of a sudden.

"Taki jii-san!" Mari hollers as she draws close - partly to be heard over the din, partly to express her growing annoyance with his unsatisfactory service. Mari knows how to nurse a grudge. Yuuri hovers behind hesitantly.

"Mari-chan," Taki says, wrinkling the brows on his already wrinkly face. "Is it the tenth yet?"

"Nope. I'm here to complain. This month's order was -"

"Oh, who's this?" Taki peers over her shoulder at Yuuri. He squints. "Your boyfriend?"

Mari is horrified. " _No_. No, no. This is Yuuri, my brother. Remember him? Yuu-chan? He's come back."

" _Yuu-chan_?" He rolls the name in his mouth like he's tasted something strange. He hobbles out from behind to the front where he can gaze up at Yuuri properly. Yuuri fidgets terribly under the scrutiny. "It's been awhile, Taki jii-san," he says softly.

Taki's arms come up to poke his sides, making Yuuri squeak. The old man looks to Mari, "Yuu-chan was fatter. And smaller."

From behind them Yuuri thinks he hears Yuri laugh. Mari reaches out to pull down Yuuri's mask for him. "Lost some, grew some."

Taki makes a sound of recognition. He prods Yuuri in the stomach for good measure anyway. "Ah...yes," head bobbing furiously, he says, "Yuu-chan who danced, I remember."

"I...skate actually," Yuuri amends shyly. "Well, I danced last time too."

"Mm, yes...I saw the posters...very nice, very nice," Taki's eyes widen and his tone is almost wistful. "So big now."

"I'm twenty-three now," Yuuri says softly. It feels like an admission.

Taki does not say anything, he just continues to look up at Yuuri with big, searching eyes. With a start, Yuuri realises that he is the one looking down. Mari pulls his shoulder gently.

"Why don't you bring them around, I'll talk to him then go around the stalls and place orders." She tells him.

"Right," Yuuri says automatically. He gives Taki a tiny wave. "It was good to see you, Taki jii-san. I'm very happy you remember me."

"Come back again, Yuu-chan. Come again."

As Yuuri leads the Russians away he feels their questioning stares prickling at the back of his neck. When Yuri asks, "What was that about?", Yuuri presses his lips into a tight line and pulls his mask back into place. "Oh, just greeting an old acquaintance."

_Acquaintance?_

They pass a large sign for Hasetsu's famed fried squid and its stall owner who is luring customers in with the promise of freshly caught, freshly cooked squid. Yuuri directs their attention there.

"It's a specialty," he says fondly, looking over the massive piles of squid kebab stacked over the grill. "They use a special sauce, and only the softest parts of the squid."

Yuri edges closer, eyes wide and wanting. He reaches for his back pocket.

" _Yurio_ ," Victor warns.

Yuri hesitates a moment, then with renewed determination pulls a handful of change out, "High metabolism, remember? A little won't hurt." He gives Yuuri a sideways glance. "Can't say the same for piggy here."

Yuuri gives a mirthless laugh. He shrugs. "Wasn't planning to."

He really wants to though. He hasn't had one of those in _forever_.

He watches expectantly as Yuri takes a bite. The teen frowns a little at first, chewing thoughtfully and thoroughly. Then he takes a second bigger bite, bobbing his head in appreciation. "S'good," he says through a mouthful. As much as he likes to criticise, Yuri has had nothing but good things to say about the local fare so far. Yuuri considers this a victory.

He is about to lead them on when Victor reappears at his side. He didn't even notice he was gone. Victor holds up a squid kebab to his lips.

"Have some," he says. The instruction makes Yuuri blink. Wasn't he angry?

"I...can't," He pulls away but Victor chases his lips with the stick. "You know I put on weight easily."

Victor considers this. He moves his hand away and takes a bite of the squid himself. Yuuri watches with satisfaction (and a little envy) as his eyes light up with absolute delight. Victor gives a thumb up and pushes the half-eaten kebab back towards him.

"We'll split the calories," he says with a small smile. "You have your coach's permission."

This coming from the man who had promptly overhauled Yuuri's diet the day he arrived in Hasetsu. Victor had gone as far as to write up recipes for his mother, and emphasised very clearly to his family that Katsudon was off limits.

So Yuuri is more than wary of this gesture. He does not trust Victor to not add another two kilometres to his daily run or a hundred extra lunges to his workout programme for this one bite. But it smells so good and Victor is practically forcing it past his lips at this point so Yuuri gives in. He chews quietly, pointedly ignoring Victor's expectant stare as he relishes the taste.

When he finally nods Victor happily takes another bite before extending it back to him. Yuuri does not hesitate this time. Fried squid had never been a particularly favoured food of his but he thinks it might be now - if only for nostalgia's sake.

Victor gives Yuuri the last bit and Yuuri tries not to think too hard about the fact that Victor had just fed him and shared food with him. It's strangely intimate for two people who have not quite overcome the boundaries of unfamiliarity. Still, it fills his chest with something warm and Victor is beckoning him eagerly down the rows of stalls - and it is all so pleasant and new - so he decides not to think too hard on it today.

...

Things go downhill when Yuri spots the dancing squid and drags them over.

It is a delicacy yes, and is as much a part of Hasetsu as the sea that embraces her on all sides. But squid served up on a plate wriggling with as much life as it did in the sea is something Yuuri thinks he could never get used to, let alone try.

Phichit had once accused him of having delicate sensibilities, which made him roll his eyes. Yes, he is delicate, but right now he would prefer delicate as a daisy over gung-ho enough to swallow something that _moves_.

Westerners supposedly carry this same delicacy, but perhaps it is different for Russians.

Or maybe it is just these two.

"It's...so," Victor trails off. The stall owner is showing off for them, seizing a squid that has definitely not been dead for very long and arranging it on a plate already waiting with the appropriate accoutrements. As she pours the bowl of soy sauce over it, its tentacles begin to squirm in a very alive fashion. Victor and Yuri watch with equal parts mortification and fascination.

Yuuri can see the fascination winning out.

"And it's actually dead? I mean...it's so..." Words fail Victor once again and the stall owner explains in heavily accented but sufficient English exactly how this magical phenomenon occurs. She punctuates the rather graphic explanation by pushing the plate towards them.

Yuri is snapping away on his phone like some wildlife photographer - making rapid, awed clicks. He stops to meet Yuuri's stare. "What?"

"Just..." Yuuri swallows. "Are you really going to...?"

Yuri looks back at the squid - it is no less wriggly than it was two minutes ago. When he speaks he sounds almost childlike, "I...don't know. Victor?"

Victor still looks fairly mortified, but there is a spark in his eyes that Yuuri is beginning to learn to fear.

He decides an intervention is in order.

"I really think you shouldn't. Even I have never tried it." He sort of did, once. He was ten and Mari was insistent he embrace every facet of Hasetsu's charm. He managed to spit it out, but he would never quite forget the sensation of tasting something so deceptively alive on his tongue.

"Besides," he tries a different angle. "If you really want to taste it a restaurant would be better. Just to be safe." Yuuri has nothing but faith in the hygiene levels of the Yobuko market but he really needs to get them away from the squid. He glances at the stall owner.

"Sorry," he says in Japanese, pulling down his mask as he does so. "It's too unusual for them. Foreigners, you know?"

He gives her his best 's _illy tourists, eh_?' smile but it falters when she begins to squint suspiciously at him.

He is about to usher them all away when the stall owner gasps and points at him. "Katsuki Yuuri! Skater Katsuki Yuuri."

Yuuri freezes with his lips locked in a stiff smile. "Y-yes. That's me."

The stall owner wipes a hand roughly on her apron and all but forces him to take it in a handshake. It is still clammy and damp from handling the squid. He suppresses a shudder.

"Your posters - one is at the minimart near my place. See everyday," she says conversationally and Yuuri just wants to hide because she is still speaking English for some reason and he really does not want Victor or Yuri to understand this conversation.

"So you come back," she carries on, oblivious to his discomfort. "British was it?"

"America..." he answers softly.

"American, yes, yes," then she pauses to consider, "You skate yeah? Went big contest. Won gold, yeah?"

Yuuri all but shrinks into himself. He is vaguely aware of the stares they are catching, the ears that have stopped to listen. Everyone is waiting, but he has no answers to give.

"Oh, yes," a voice cuts in smoothly.

Victor slides an arm around his shoulder and tucks him into his side. "Yuuri will win gold this year. At a _big_ contest."

The woman stares, her gaze drawing a triangle between Victor's face, Yuuri's face, then the non-existent gap between them. She goes back to Victor's face.

"You are?"

"His teacher," and he pauses to deliver the clincher. "I have five golds."

Then he unleashes Victor Nikiforov's trademark charm, with the wink, the smile, the hair that just _swoops_ the right way - the works.

The effect is immediate and dizzying. Her mouth falls into a soft 'O' and she manages faintly, "Wow."

"And teachers know things," Victor says cheerfully. "And I know, Yuuri _will_ win gold."

"... _Wow_ ," she says again.

Yuuri feels Victor's fingers curl into the flesh at his shoulder, non-threatening, but like intention, like a promise.

"Wow," Victor agrees.

...

Back in the car, Victor sits with a lap full of cartons containing dried _somethings_ , and looking unusually cheerful despite the smell.

Mari had caught up with them at the dancing squid stall and wrangled them into carrying things. Yuuri was thankful for that on two accounts, one - it kept the Russians from trying the squid, two - he didn't know what he would have done if he had stayed there any longer.

Yuuri fiddles restlessly with the mask between his fingers and only stops when Victor places his own hand over them. He had not even realised he had been fidgeting.

"Was that why you wore the mask?" Victor asks. "So no one would recognise you."

Yuuri thinks that if he answers yes, he would have to admit to the fact that he has some fame. And Yuuri Katsuki does not deal well with fame. He has no other reason though so he remains silent instead.

Victor's hand tightens over his. The grip does not relent till Yuuri looks up again. Victor's expression is a curious thing - like he is trying to understand that which cannot be understood, and he knows it.

"What happened to you, Katsuki Yuuri? So little confidence..." he murmurs. He is drawing pensive circles over the back of Yuuri's hand and right now it's so hard _not_ to pull away.

"Nothing happened," he manages to croak out. "I've just always been like this. Like...I'm-I'm just me."

"Isn't that enough?" is all Victor says, and he finally pulls his hand away. Neither of them say anything after.

On Victor's request, Mari drops them off at central - Hasetsu's mini shopping district. She looks at them suspiciously when Victor assures her they can find their own way back.

Victor is clearly in his element here. Armed with only a tourist map Mari gave him that is probably four years out of date - he leads them on a hurried jaunt down unfamiliar streets.

"So much to see," he says excitedly, nose buried in the map and legs eating up long strides along the ground. "Anywhere to recommend, Yuuri?"

Yuuri is focused on keeping up with Victor's stride. Beside him, Yuri makes small, rapid steps with as much nonchalance he can manage while doing it. "Uh...there should be a shopping complex around the corner."

"Really? Let's go!"

Yuuri regrets his suggestion as soon as they arrive. Victor immediately flocks to a bargain sale at a clothing store - likely drawn by the sheer numbers swarming towards it. He gets swept up into a throng of high schoolers and old ladies somewhere near the shoes section, later resurfacing fifteen metres ahead from where he disappeared.

He is the tallest, so it is not hard to spot him as he beams a dazzling smile at them over several heads and beckons them over.

"These prices," he says wonderingly when they finally manage to struggle to his side. "Is it legal?"

Yuuri checks the price tag of a jacket. 200 yen. Figures, Victor Nikiforov must have never walked into a bargain sale his whole life.

"There are nicer stores upstairs I think," he begins to say but Victor waves him off.

"Here, Yuuri!" A coat is thrown over his shoulders, followed by a scarf. Then Victor grabs him by the shoulders and twists him towards a mirror. They stare at their twin reflections. Victor is taller by only a little, Yuuri realises. If he just stood on his tiptoes, he would be just as tall. Tall enough to be eye to eye, nose to nose, and even their mouths -

"Hm," Victor hums contemplatively as he adjusts the clothes over Yuuri's frame. "This doesn't quite sit right," His hands skim down Yuuri's sides, beginning at the tops of his shoulders and tracing a line down to his hips. In the mirror, Yuuri stares at the spot where they rest just above his hip bones.

"Victor...what are we doing?" Yuuri asks tentatively as Victor peels the scarf off and buttons the jacket over his front.

"Finding you clothes, of course," Victor says distractedly. He removes the jacket too and puts it back on the rack. "This is _not_ your colour."

"But why?"

Victor looks surprised. "Confidence begins with the body, Yuuri. Be happy with how you look, and you'll be happy with yourself." Then he shifts his body slightly, so slightly but it is an instantaneous change - he looks like power and beauty realised in just one man. His chin is tilted up slightly and he looks at Yuuri with a sparkle in his eye, as if to say - _see_?

Yuuri isn't so sure. But before he can argue Victor is already herding him out. At the exit, they spot Yuri making a purchase at the counter. He leaves with a bag full of clothes and a satisfied little grin.

"This eye knows a good deal," he says smugly. "No one will ever know the difference between this and the big brands."

As Victor drags them onwards, Yuuri wonders how two individuals with such matching skill and raw confidence could be so different in this one aspect. The teen did not blink twice at the price tags, he now recalls. It makes him wonder about Yuri Plisetsky.

On the higher levels, the shops are a little more expensive, and Yuuri is quite sure they were not there before. Victor makes a happy sigh when he spots them, and eagerly propels them towards the nearest boutique.

Victor shops like it is a sport and he is good at it- Yuuri quickly realises. He makes quick work of the shop, walks in a strategic circuit and flips through racks of clothing almost methodically. Occasionally he will hold up a shirt to Yuuri's frame, or himself, but the clothing is quickly dismissed and returned to its place. They burn through three shops like this and Victor looks intent on trying every shop down the row. It is endless.

Shop number five specialises in hats and Victor seems to think it worthy of a longer stay. Yuuri watches as Victor and Yuri try on several, grinning foolishly and making faces in the mirror. Victor experiments with all kinds - and because he is Victor Nikiforov, each looks like it is made for him. Yuri is pickier, and as far as Yuuri can tell, anything he chooses has to fulfil two criteria - suitably loud and brimming with insolence. He finally settles on a cap that looks just like that, and gives Yuuri a defiant stare when their eyes meet in the mirror.

"Yuuri!" Victor comes up to him looking unfairly good in a beanie. Yuuri has always thought that beanies made him look like a dumpling. Victor places something on his head, light, a little stiff, and with a brim poking into his vision.

"Look in the mirror," he says, and Yuuri does.

It is a fedora. Yuuri has never worn one. Phichit once mentioned they were too dandy for anyone's good. And Phichit would know all about dandy.

Victor adjusts the fedora on his head and makes a satisfied little sound. "What do you think, Yuuri?"

Yuuri is not sure what he thinks. In another dimension maybe he would look stylish, but in this one he is just plain old Yuuri. Nothing, least of all a hat can change that. Even if its a fedora.

"It don't think it suits me," he says. Beside him Yuri rolls a lollipop noisily between his teeth, making sharp, clicking sounds. He manages to look extremely unimpressed while doing so. "You're blind, duh."

"It's a compliment," Victor reassures him as Yuri wanders off. Yuuri remains unconvinced.

" _See_ ," Victor says, insistent. He raises a hand to push at the base of Yuuri's spine till it sits straight, while another comes up to raise his chin. "You're cute, Yuuri."

If the remark was not so unbelievable, Yuuri would probably be blushing down to his toes. Instead his face settles for pink and incredulous. " _Cute_?"

"Handsome, even." Victor winks. It looks like a little camera flash - dazzling and drawing the eye to it. Yuuri feels his own gaze pinned to Victor's face, unable to look away. Victor stares back at him. They stare at their reflected selves - side by side. They make an odd pair, framed by the mirror like a picture.

Yuuri looks away first.

_This is what people will see from now on,_ Yuuri thinks _. Yuuri and Victor. Victor and Yuuri._

He touches the hat brim, feels its velvety texture. It is nice. Soft. He remembers how Victor stood earlier in the first shop. How did he do it? Yuuri shifts his weight and tries to relax everything. He is not a naturally relaxed person, but if he pretends it is a dance, maybe -

Hip turned out, a knee bent gently. Spine tall, neck straight. Chin raised, eyes front.

He hears Victor inhale deeply, right next to his ear.

"That's right, Yuuri," Victor's words are a quiet, sure thing. Satisfied. Approving. An artist appraising his own creation. It makes Yuuri's skin tingle, gives him all the bravery he needs to meet Victor's eyes in the glass and hold it.

And when Victor says, "Beautiful," Yuuri believes it, even if it is only for that moment.

...

They did not buy the fedora.

By the time they board the train Victor is still pouting. Yuuri can tell, since he is sitting right next to him and the man is making no effort at discretion. Yuri sits two seats away from them, curled up fast asleep.

"It was nice," Victor says in a tone that is all too childish for a man his age. Yuuri rolls his eyes, and is surprised when he realises he did.

"I wouldn't wear it anywhere," he says.

"But you looked good in it," this time Yuuri blushes hard. Victor gives him a little knowing smile. "And you felt good, yes?"

"Maybe. But I'm not sure I want to rely on a hat for that."

Victor chuckles. "Perhaps not."

Yuuri turns a little in his seat to watch the scenery sprawling by as they pass. Victor mirrors the action, but he turns towards Yuuri, so their knees are pressed together. They sit like that for several quiet minutes, just watching the moving city spread out before them.

"Hasetsu is a nice place," Victor says suddenly. Yuuri turns his face sleepily towards him. The train carriage is quiet and empty except for the three of them, and Yuuri feels secure and warm right where he is.

He presses a cheek to the sun-warmed glass. "It is."

"You must have missed this place while you were away."

Yuuri stays silent for a long time. But Victor wait patiently till he replies, "Not as much as I wish I did."

Victor raises a questioning eyebrow in response.

"Five years is a long time," Yuuri keeps his eyes on the outside. "You get used to it. Not being home. Even if it hurts a little at first, you get used to it."

Yuuri hears Victor's quiet breathing beneath the rattle and hum of the train. Behind him, Yuri's sneaker squeaks against the plastic seat as he turns in his sleep. He closes his eyes.

"But now I'm back. Some things remain the same. Some things never change. But both those things make me wished I missed this place a little more. Then maybe I would have come back more. Or sooner. Maybe then I wouldn't forget."

In his mind he sees Sochi, and hears the shrill of his phone that would herald Mari's news. He thinks of a sweet, sweet dog that he would never come home to again.

He gives Victor a sad, wry smile. "The things we do for the sport."

Victor returns the smile with the same feelings written into it, and it makes Yuuri sigh happily. As unknowable as Victor Nikiforov is, they are skaters, both of them. And he can always be at least sure of this one connection.

"Five years is a long time," Victor says, smiling when Yuuri picks up on his own words repeated back to him. "Five years, five golds. Some would say that is enough, in some ways, it is. But there is always more."

Victor gives him a cheeky grin. "I'm a vain man, Yuuri. Even if I'm past my prime as a skater, I don't want to bow out just yet."

"You're not," Yuuri says firmly. Victor's eyes soften at the sureness in his voice.

"The other day when you told me about the sakura, it was so beautiful, yet so sad. You called them fallen warriors right? I felt like one. It's not the first time. I've felt this thing, hanging over my head like a ticking bomb for over a year now, but never as strongly as that day."

" _Oh_. I'm sorry," Yuuri says, eyes wide with guilt.

"No," Victor shakes his head quickly. "Don't. It's not a new feeling. It's not entirely pleasant though. I get so restless thinking how should I move from here, what I have to do. My mind is running constantly like time is chasing it - new ideas, new choreographies, new ways to surprise people. And it makes me so tired. But still, I hunger."

Hunger implies that there is something missing, something incomplete in a person or being. Yuuri has never looked at Victor Nikiforov and thought that he was anything less than whole. So hearing this admission from Victor is a sobering thing. It shakes the drowsiness from his mind and startles him with the intensity with which Victor is admitting this. It feels so intimate. Like a secret he stumbled upon and has no idea how to return.

Victor must sense his uncertainty for he breaks the tension with a little chuckle and a pat to Yuuri's knee. "So forgive me if I'm a tough coach. I just never want to see you - _either_ of you end up like me."

So he pushes. Victor pushes because he sees time bearing down on all their backs clearer than anyone else. Yuuri thought he knew all the woes about a competitive skater's temporary-ness but Victor has completely overhauled that understanding. It makes him yearn for his youth - and that is sad - he is still so young.

Victor still looks a little melancholic, much like the night of the hanami, when Yuuri found him beneath the flowers and stars. Carefully, he lifts his pinky, just enough so that it touches Victor's.

"There won't be another quite like you, so I don't think you have to worry." He says teasingly as he can despite the ache he feels in his own chest.

Victor's gaze flits over Yuuri's shoulder where Yuri is, then back to him. He turns his palm upwards and curls his own pinky around Yuuri's - an offer to comfort when neither are explicitly asking for it. But that is okay. Perhaps they have finally begun to learn how to read one another.

"I wouldn't bet on that just yet, Katsuki Yuuri." Victor says.

They turn their eyes to the window, and the scenery that rushes by in colours too fast to name. A rainbow storming pass. It is all at once lovely and fleeting.

Yet - they do not look away.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Yes, dancing squid is a very real thing. Hope no one feels sick. (It's really not eaten alive, don't worry.)
> 
> 3) You can see all my mundane Hasetsu life fantasies spilling out here. I have no regrets.
> 
> 3) Yuuri and Victor are both weak, both troubled in their own ways. What matters is them opening their hearts to one another. So they can angst together.
> 
> 4) This seriously made me sad for any competitive sports person. Such dedication, such sacrifice.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Yuuri is ever the reluctant local celebrity. Victor needs to learn to keep his hands to himself. The cliched test of courage may or may not be thrown into the mix (rolls eyes).


End file.
